Archive of Our Own

Gorgug had taken to getting to school a good hour before the rest of them.

At first Riz had been overjoyed that another of his party was dedicating himself to studies. It had been fun at first, having another person to sit and pour of textbooks with, the share a quiet study time without the pressure to finish before the others got bored.

Gorgug even seemed to enjoy it at first.

Then it stopped being fun. They went from occasional late nights to finding Gorgug hadn’t slept the night at all. Casual study dates had become few and far between and the group sessions Fabian hosted saw less and less of the half-orc as the year went on. For a solid month Gorgug drowned in four years worth of schooling at once before he eventually passed out on Fabian’s lawn during a brief spot of sun in the late autumn that saw them playing twister in the grass.

After that, it got concerning. The excitement Riz had felt being able to share study tips with his friend waned until he was actively trying to keep them away. Trying to find a way to make Gorgug shut the textbooks full of things he already knew practically and remember how to breathe again.

Which had left him here, alone in the library for an hour before school even started, waiting on Gorgug’s arrival to see if he could talk some sense into him.

Except Gorgug was late.

And someone is coughing somewhere.

Not frequently, but it’s hard and rattling and Riz can’t decide if it’s annoying him or not. He’s not much of a fan of the silence of a library, but he had sought it out for a reason that morning. Having his carefully scheduled study time interrupted by sudden hacking is throwing him.

The coughing gets closer, seems to be browsing through the section just over Riz’s little corner. He admits defeat on his intervention for the morning, concern and relief wared in him at the thought that Gorgug hadn’t made it to school early. Hesitant hope reared its head at the thought he’d given himself a lie in that morning.

Shattered as a Gorgug turned the corner and blinked surprised at the sight of Riz at his usually table.

Gorgug’s hair, usually pinned back with one of the girl’s clips or else brushed and let loose around his ears, is scruffed up one side like he’s slept on it funny, the white tufts a haphazard mess in front of his eyes. He’s wearing an old hoodie with grease stains all up on arm and a pair of loose blue trousers. Riz is actually pretty sure those are his pyjamas. A shirt collar, cream patterned a light gingham pokes out the top, a sure sign Gorgug at least tried to get dressed that morning.

But the pyjama trousers speak louder. Riz slowly tucks away his revision cards and sets aside his folder. ‘Hey.’ He says quietly.

Gorgug’s whole body jerks at the sound, wild eyes finding him in the shadow of the library and Riz realises his friend had been walking with his eyes closed.

Gorgug waves. ‘Hey.’

‘You look like shit.’

Gorgug nods. Riz isn’t entirely sure he heard him. ‘When’s the last time you slept.’

Gorgug waves his hand.

Riz kicks a chair out for him and he slumps into it like it’s a beanbag, backpack falling next to him with a heavy thud. The joints creak a little but for once it doesn’t seem to bother him and he tips his head back. His eyes have shut again, crow’s feet creased where the fluorescent library light seems to bother him even shut. ‘I slept last night.’

‘Yeah. For how long?’

‘Some.’

Riz quirks a brow. Wonders if this is what it’s like to deal with him when he’s days into a mystery. Gorgug’s voice was lower than normal and despite his limp collapse into the chair there was a tension in his shoulders, his arms carefully folded in his lap like he was uncomfortable.

He stares for a bit longer, the silence caught on the rise and fall of Gorgug’s chest before he notices the uneven exhale. He realises the same time Gorgug’s head lurches up and he cups his jaw with his hand.

And coughs. Hard.

Gorgug is the cougher.

Despite himself Riz inches back in his chair a little. He’s never liked getting ill, though it only happens once or twice a year. But it hits him hard, and his mom always has to take at least one day off work to make sure he doesn’t pass out in the toilet.

In all three years of knowing him though, Riz has never seen Gorgug ill. Gorgug says he used to be sick a lot as a kid, but once he hit middle school his body seemed to decide enough was enough and he hadn’t picked a thing up since. Ragh told him it was the half-orc biology kicking in.

Gorgug liked to say it was his mom’s stubbornness. Riz isn’t entirely sure if he’s joking about illness being too scared of Mrs Thistlespring to mess with her son.

Riz can verify it though, because in freshman year when the whole school was getting freshers flu and the teachers started waving away sniffling students right to the nurse’s office, Gorgug sat quietly at the back of classes, unaffected.

Because when Fig got a stomach bug and Mordred Manor went on lock down as each resident contracted it too, Gorgug talked himself into being allowed inside to deliver food and medicine.

Because in sophomore year, when Fabian refused to admit to being sick and gave the rest of them the worst sore throat any of them have ever had, Gorgug sat with them in their pile of blankets and kept a steady supply of water and cough drops and movies going through the weekend.

Gorgug takes one last heaving breath, clearing his throat with a throaty sound. Then he has the audacity to pull a book and a notebook from his bag. Riz watches in horror as he opens it and begins to riffle through the pages.

He puts a hand out to stop the fluttering, notes absently they’ve been colour coded in the way Riz showed him way back in freshman year. ‘No way man.’

Gorgug blinks up at him. His eyes are barely open. ‘I’ve got like three tests today.’ He says morosely, and tries to shove his hand away.

‘You don’t even look like you should be here, Gorgug.’

Gorggu shrugs. He’s still shoving at Riz’s hand and it’s a little disturbing that Riz can hold his strength against someone who can haul an axe twice his size with ease.

Gorgug’s gaze turns on him fully now and looks morbidly like he might die if Riz denies him the textbook much longer.

Riz has never been so lost at what to do next. He doesn’t really do this end of taking care of people. He’s usually the one waist deep in study cards and textbooks with less than an hours sleep.

‘What tests?’ He asks, lighter than he feels. He moves his hand, if only to stop Gorgug looking quite so sad, but closes up his own work. Settles in for a morning of close observation.

Gorgug shrugs again. Winces. Coughs. ‘I’ve reached the midpoint for sophomore artificing, buncha texts and things to pass to move on.’

Riz squints at the page he’s left open. At the top it says Magic-Aided Design (MAD). Seems fitting. Scanning the page, words and phrases jump out that are all too familiar and he puts his hand out again on the page to get Gorgug’s attention. His morning of quiet work is long forgotten now.

It sort of works. Gorgug stops writing, but just sort of sits with an exhausted sway, like looking at Riz is too much for him right now.

Kristen would be better for this. Or Fabian. They don’t take shit. Fabian is one of the only ones who can move Gorgug unwillingly. Plus Riz doesn’t like calling parents, and he doubts the Thistlesprings know their son has taken himself to school on the apparent verge of collapse. ‘Gorgug, you’ve done this already. I quizzed you.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Gorgug, you did this test last week. You got a B. Adaine bought you that ice cream.’ Which isn’t really relevant, but he knows that an event is an easier association for Gorgug’s memory sometimes.

Gorgug blinks. He carefully lifts Riz’s hand from the page and stares down at it impassively. Riz holds his breath and Gorgug’s brow furrows and he says with a detached sort of disappointment. ‘Oh.’

The bell rings.

Gorgug swears. He’s out of his seat before Riz can say anything against it, replaced by his backpack as he shoves stuff inside. It doesn’t fit in his haste. Riz hesitates before offering help when it’s clear nothing he does is going to actually stop Gorgug from going to school for the day.

He shoves the chair away from the half-orc a little more aggressively than intended and takes the backpack from him. Much slower he slots the notebooks and textbook back the space left for them. He’s got two other textbooks too, though much thinner than the one he’d gotten out, and a thick folder that Fig has clearly used as a lyrical canvas before. His drumstricks are sticking out of a pocket that usually holds his water bottle. Which is nowhere to be seen, unhelpfully.

It's not a surprise, not with Gorgug’s overall success for the day apparently amounting to being coherent enough to not crash on the way to school.

‘Gorgug,’ he starts slowly, ‘did you drive here?’

Gorgug has the decency to look abashed before he promptly folds in two and hacks out another cough into his sleeve. The stay there for a long moment, Riz entirely, guiltily still as Gorgug attempts to cough out his insides.

He should put a hand on his back or something. He glances at the bag and then back at his own. He’s had the same water bottle since freshman year, a thick clunky metal one that’s built to survive apocalyptic archanic events. He’d gotten better at keeping it filled this year on his mom’s orders.

As Gorgug’s coughs turn to wheezes and he leans up against the bookshelf behind him, Riz offers the waterbottle.

Gorgug shakes his head. ‘It’s yours.’ He says after a long moment. Low and hoarse.

‘Yeah well, you forgot yours.’

‘I can—’ he cuts himself off. Closes his eyes and frowns. Riz can see the bob of his throat as he swallows deliberately and it looks like it hurt.

He uncaps the bottle. All but shoves it in Gorgug’s face.

Gorgug the bastard denies it still. ‘You don’t like people using it. I can go—the vending machines have—’

‘Fuck’s sake Gorgug drink the water. I’ll wash it when I get home.’

Gorgug spends an agonising second protesting before relenting. He takes the bottle from him with an air of a prisoner and and their guard, and takes a miniscule sip.

Riz quirks a brow. ‘I’m not gonan drink it now. Have it all.’

‘Sorry.’ His friend murmurs, and takes another delicate sip.

‘Don’t say that. I gave it to you.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Just drink Gorgug.’

Gorgug does, slightly deeper. But the slow steady sips continue as the finish packing up and Riz stubbornly encourages Gorgug to let him carry their backpacks at least until they part ways.

Gorgug is too busy walking straight ahead to argue. Riz counts it as a win of sorts.

The bell rings again right as Ruz is forced to leave him in the corridor outside the artificers class. Gorgug bids him a buy, and ducks into the classroom with an iron grip on the bottle.

One thing about Gorgug is that if you show you’re worried, he’ll hide it best he can. And unfortunately for everyone, his best his far better than any of theirs when it comes to hiding the things that bother him.

So Riz does the next best thing. He messages the party an SOS emergency meeting.

Only Adaine and Fabian come. It’s more than the last time.

‘Kristen picked a fight with some senior.’ Adaine says as she slides onto the bleacher bench next to him. It’s chilly this week, and Riz is counting on Gorgug being huddled inside all day studying to avoid the meeting being found out.

Fabian, lounging on the bench below and looking strangely at ease on the hard metal, sits upright so fast he knocks all their bags down the stairs. ‘Kristen got into a fight?’

Adaine shrugs. ‘I think technically the other kid started it. Or well this freshman started it about her brother then this senior got involved. Anyway, Kristen just Kristened about it you know? Not like an actual fight, pretty sure it was mostly fireworks actually. She’s not in trouble I don’t think but one of the covers saw the whole thing. She’s stuck in study hall for the rest of her frees.’

It’s an odd comfort to Riz to know that someone is out there in the study hell that Gorgug has decided to reside in for the day. Even if it’s Kristen.

‘Fig?’ He asks.

Adaine shrugs again, genuinely clueless this time. Fabian snorts. Yeah, Riz didn’t thik they’d get an answer for that one. Oh well. Two is enough.

‘Gorgug’s got a cough.’ He says bluntly, for lack of any other way to ease them in.

‘A cough?’ Fabian gawkes.

‘Gorgug has a cough?’ Adaine asks over him, disbelief colouring her tone. ‘Gorgug Thistlespring has a cough?’

‘I saw him this morning in the hall,’ Fabian hurries to say, ‘can’t be that bad if he’s in school?’

‘It is that bad.’ Riz stresses. ‘I thought he was gonna drop dead in the library. I don’t think he’s slept.’

‘He never sleeps anymore.’ Adaine says softly, reminding. ‘You sure it wasn’t just exhaustion?’

Like that makes it any better. Like it makes it easier to swallow that one of their friends is being punished with their own passions just cause Porter has an ego the size of a fucking mountain.

Still. ‘He’s sick. He’s coughing badly, his throat sounds wrecked. He forgot his water.’ He adds uselessly at the end.

‘But it’s Gorgug.’ Fabian reasons, still seemingly set in his disbelief. He’s sat up now at least, turned both legs to face the other two with an uncharacteristically serious face. ‘He’s never sick.’

Riz rolls his shoulders. He’s sort of regretting his meeting spot as a chill runs up his arms. He left his coat in his locker for the day and a thin cardigan over his shirt isn’t doing a lot to keep him warm. He eyes Fabian’s bloodrush jacket jealously.

Fabian isn’t even wearing it cause the asshole runs warm, he just likes to carry it.

‘Well if he’s here, we can’t really stop him from being at school.’ Adaine says after a while.

‘We could kidnap him.’

‘He’s sick.’ Riz protests. ‘We can’t kidnap him!’

‘Who says? The law? Nothing against the law kidnapping sick people.’

‘It doesn’t need to specify, it’s against the law to kidnap.’

Fabian rocks his hand side to side, lips outed to the side like he’s thinking something over. ‘Semantics.’

‘We can’t kidnap Gorgug.’ Adaine interrupts sternly. ‘That’s mean.’

‘You’d kidnap me.’ Fabian grumbles.

Which is true. Without a doubt. They’d film it.

The meeting sort of uselessly absolves there. Adaine is late to her next lesson, which only just misses the mark of sending her into an anxiety spiral, and Fabian solves it by picking her up and sprinting across the field amid her shrieks. Which leaves Riz on the bleacher to plot on his own.

And Fabian’s bloodrush jacket, which has been carelessly thrown over Riz’s bag. Which it definitely had not been near before.

Riz shrugs it on.

He finds Gorgug again just before lunch, staking out his locker from across the hall trying to look casual leant up against the water fountain. He’s had to shoo away three freshman already, and bared his fangs at the last one who had the audacity to not even ask before trying to shove Riz from his look out spot.

Riz wonders how long it’ll take Jawbone to call him in to the office and to ask him to stop shooting at freshman. At this rate the next person to try and use the fountain he’s actually going to aim for.

Grogug arrives at his locker later than he should, considering his schedule. He trudges down the hall at an unbearably slow pace. He’s got a text gripped in one hand and even from a way a way Riz can see it is shaking.

In his other is the water bottle. Gorgug stops at his locker, set the bottle on the floor with his backpack as he opens it.

Riz makes his way over. Casual as he can.

It probably doesn’t matter how unsubtle he is about his concern now though. Gorgug has pulled his locker open and seems to just be resting inside it, head cocooned with papers and old tests and photocopied study pages as he leans fully on the locker wall and slumps down.

Riz spends too long just stood behind his friend, trying to figure out if he’s fallen asleep where he’s standing.

There’s a hitch to his breath, a shudder across his shoulders, and Riz realises with certain horror that Gorgug is crying.

Shit.

He steps forward in panic, then thinks better of it as he catches sight of a bright red mark on the paper still clutched in Gorgug’s trembling hand. He arches his head around, shimmies a little to fit beneath the locker door, and sees a big bold D on the top of the page. There’s some writing beneath it, but Riz has seen all he needs to see.

Gently, he taps Gorgug’s elbow. ‘Hey, man?’

Gorgug goes horribly terribly still. If Riz strains he can hear him holding his breath abruptly. Before he can warn against it, a cough wrenches free and Gorgug is suddenly throwing himself out of the mess of his locker to try and breathe.

Riz steadies him, hands his wrists and pulling him to lean against the wall of lockers again, words tumbling over themselves in his throat to try and find the right thing to say. Gorgug’s breath hiccups again, but seems to steady itself from being an all out coughing fit, and Gorgug eventually calms enough that Riz feels good letting him go.

He makes his way over to his bottle, knocked onto the floor in the flurry of movement. He swills it once and it’s light, almost empty as water dribbles against the walls. He takes it dutifully to the water fountain, pleased as the freshman about to go for it scurries away. He fills it, aware that Gorgug seems to just be staring at him from down the hall.

He takes it back without protest this time. Riz doesn’t comment on the two handed grip, knowing Gorgug already knows he’s noticed it.

Gorgug takes a deep glug this time, long and pained. His cheeks are flushed a dark green, pinkish around his eyes. His hair isn’t down anymore, instead pulled into the kind of messy bun that isn’t intentional, strands sticking to his neck from sweat. Tears tracks have made streaks that curve into the divot of his nose, but in one second and the next Gorgug’s used his sleeve to wipe at them viciously.

‘Thanks.’ Gorgug says eventually, pants it between breathes. ‘How was your morning?’

‘Better than yours I bet.’ Riz sends a sidelong glance at the mess of paper now on the floor, and starts slowly picking it up.

Gorgug sighs and makes to help. Riz pulls his cardigan back and shimmies the hip with his pistol holstered on in his direction.

Gorgug stills, then pulls back. His fist tightens minutely around the test paper still in his hand, the ink smeared on his palms from heat. There’s an irritated twitch to his brow as Riz goes about picking up his work and stuffing them back where they belong.

‘You’re still sick.’ He says when he finally shuts the door with a click. Gorgug watches him with wary eyes. He looks more aware now, but seems to have sacrificed common sense for it. His whole body is pulled taut, blush heavy on his cheeks but his lips are dry and a pale putrid blue-green.

‘I’m fine.’ Gorgug argues softly. Even irritated he sounds defeated. ‘I’ve only got one more.’

‘One more what?’

‘Test.’

Riz tries not to look at the offending test. He sort of hopes the delusion causing Gorgug to force himself through the day as a walking dead would distract him from being caught.

But the moment Riz’s eyes stray to red D, Gorgug has shoved it in his pocket.

‘You need to go home.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Hopclap lets you do retests doesn’t he. Surely, he understands if you miss this last one. You’re sick Gorgug.’

‘I can’t.’ he protests again, a little more desperately. His hands flutter up around his ears, then drop uselessly back to his side, an air of panic slipping in. It dawns on the detective that Gorgug isn’t wearing his headphones today, and seems to have another layer of suffering at the loss. ‘I—Hopclap already—he already said I can retake it. That’s not it Riz—’

‘So go home.’

Gorgug’s lips go thin, pressed so tightly together the skin around his tusks pricks dark with pressure. He looks everywhere but Riz.

Riz’s shoulders are around his ears. He’d raised his voice, and the corridor has emptied out. He takes a breath.

Gorgug coughs weakly. Shoves the water bottle in his mouth and takes a distracting glug. Riz takes the moment to breath himself. His tail is caught in one of the hinges of the locker behind him and he slowly unpicks it before turning back.

‘I can’t go home.’ Gorgug says finally, voice so hoarse Riz has to strain to hear it.

‘It’s one test Gorgug.’

‘It’s a one-to-one.’ He says, like it’s an interrogation and Riz has just cut off his hands.

‘Hopclap will—’

‘It’s not with Hopclap.’ He interrupts, too fast. ‘It’s Porter. He’ll fail me if I don’t go and this whole term will be for nothing and he doesn’t do re-dos. Not for me.’

The reality of exactly why Gorgug has been beating himself up over this is setting in. Of course Gorgug wouldn’t wind himself into sickness for Professor Hopclap, the man had a stern policy for health in his class.

No. Of course it’s Porter once again taking Gorgug apart hour by hour.

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Could Fig—’

‘—can’t do anything about it.’ Gorgug hums, like he’s already thought of it. ‘It’s just a sparring. I think.’

Riz scoffs. ‘You think?’

‘It’s Porter.’

The bell trills. Gorgug flinches. He reaches for his backpack, but Riz bodily steps in the way, arms crossed and trying to find the right words, any words to dissuade the half-orc.

Eventually he settles on, ‘you’re gonna hurt yourself fighting like this.’

‘I can’t.’ Gorgug repeats, voice thin and the lines of his face deep. ‘Riz I really can’t afford to fail anything right now.’

‘I know. I know but—’

‘—it’s just one spar. I just need to get through it. I don’t even need to win.’

Riz frowns. He doesn’t even know that. Porter could have anything planned, in this state a gusty wind could take him out.

Gorgug reaches around him and plucks his backpack from the floor. This close Riz can hear the wheeze in his chest, the tight swallow in his throat as he pulls away. Heat eminates from his skin.

‘You need to go home.’ He tries one last time.

Gorgug turns on his heel to leave, swaying into the water fountain as he does. Drumsticks skitter across the lino floor as they tumble from his bag pocket and Riz quietly scoops them up before some other students can snap them underfoot.

Footsteps stomp up behind him, the heavy thud of boots. He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Fig. Cigarette smoke wafts across the air and she blows out a plume to the side he isn’t on. The hall suddenly feels very small.

‘Was that Gorgug?’ She asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve been trying to find him. Fabian said he’s sick?’

Riz winces. ‘He won’t go home. He’s got some test in Porter’s class. Some one-to-one.’

‘Hmmm.’ Fig’s hand appears in his peripheral and he folds the drumsticks in her open palm. She hums as she takes them, tucking them into her waistband. ‘Mazey says he wasn’t looking too hot in study hall.’

‘He’s got a cough.’ Riz offers weakly, like every other time today trying to find a nice way of saying the half-orc was dead on his feet.

Fig scoffs. Riz can’t help but agree. He eyes her as she takes another drag. She spends a lot of time convincing them she’s a dispassionate person, but he can see the wild gleam in her eye as she stares down the empty hall.

Well, if no one else is gonna do something, Fig at least will make up for it. Later he’ll apologise but for now he sucks his cheeks in before blowing out a soft, ‘he was crying, Fig.’

And that gets Fig riled. She flicks out her cigarette, stamps it into the school floor and it’s a violation of so many codes but Riz can’t find it in himself to scold her. She spares a glance behind her, seems to be checking something but there’s no one there.

She cracks her knuckles when she turns back, and casts a wicked smile down at Riz. ‘Let’s gatecrash?’

………

If Porter was a better teacher, or even a good one in the first place, he would have taken one look at Gorgug and sent him to the nurse, who would have sent him home. And then Riz could tell him I told you so and make sure he stays there until he can breathe in a full breath without gagging.

But because Porter’s an asshole, and because Gorgug is his least favourite, the goliath instead takes a courtesy glance at his student and heaves a sigh so disappointed Riz can feel it through the window of the barbarian’s training rooms.

Fig seethes beside him, a shiver running up her arm and passing over his. ‘He better call it. It’s stupid to fight Gorgug like this for a school test of all things.’

Gorgug always sort of diminishes next to Porter Cliffbreaker. It’s not a voluntary thing, though Riz thinks he’s sort of aware of it these days, but Gorgug hunches in and hides when Porter casts a glance at him.

It’s disconcerting, watching the largest member of you party turn into nothing just from their teacher’s words. They can’t hear what’s being said without cracking open the door yet, but by the almost patronising look on Porter’s face as he watches Gorgug drop his stuff on the bench by the matts, it’s not nice.

Gorgug turns away from Porter, brings a hand to his face and his shoulders jerk. Porter doesn’t react so he must have been muffling the coughing. He pulls his sleeve away with a wince.

Porter barks something, sharp and loud enough that the sound pierces the silence outside the room with a dull static. Gorgug hesitates, enough that Porter barks something else and makes towards him with purpose.

‘Fig—’

‘Wait.’ Fig snaps back, hunkered down by the lower window into the room with her face pressed into the glass.

Gorgug all but throws his hoodie off, leaving only a short sleeved shirt and his pyjama trousers. A stranger combo without the hoodie. His skin looks pallid under the fluorescent lighting. The removal seems to appease the goliath and he backs up a few paces. He’s still talking, but Riz knows his friend well enough to know he isn’t listening anymore, but bigging himself up for whatever is about to happen.

Then he’s sitting on the bench heavily, reaching for a bag tucked into the cubby beneath. It’s his gym bag, and Riz watches with a detached sort of horror as he pulls the bright yellow hand wraps Kristen got him for a late birthday last year.

‘Fuck.’ He breathes.

Fig swears more colourfully, lurching away from the window so she can use as much air as possible to get it out. ‘They’re doing hand-to-hand!’ She fumes. ‘Look at him. Anyone sane would know he should be in a bed.’

‘He’s insane.’ Riz agrees. He’s not sure if he means Porter or Gorgug at this point.

Gorgug wraps slowly. Reluctance is clear in every part of him know, body slumped in on itself and he pauses when he finishes one hand, casting a resigned look at the other wrap still at his feet.

Porter says something again, softer than before. But there’s a sharp crease to his brow and he’s thrown his arms out impatiently.

Gorgug wraps the other hand.

‘We have to do something.’ Riz hisses, unable to tear his eyes away from the trainwreck in front of them. He’s actually gonna watch Gorgug get beat up by Porter. He’s gonna watch Gorgug pass out before he even hits the matt at this rate.

‘I’ve got an idea.’ Fig starts. She messaging on her crystal, Riz get’s a glimpse at Fabian’s contact photo before she’s shoving it back in her pocket. ‘You gotta back me up.’

‘What?’

‘Back me up Riz.’

‘Back you—’ he looks up to see Fig unfolding herself from a crouch and begin angling her hands for spellcasting. Her guitar is still on her back, but she breathes lyrics between her fingers like webbing and magic pulses out. ‘You can’t attack Porter!’

‘Back me up!’ She reminds him, barely a whisper.

‘With what?’

‘Just—you’ll know.’

And then Fig is gone, and in her place Mazey stands, looking uncharacteristically furious. Riz never really gets used to watching Riz disguise self and he has to blink several times before Mazey-Fig stops fuzzing at the outlines and turns into Mazey.

And then Mazey is squaring her shoulders and walking down the hall away from the door.

Riz stands, words lost to him as Mazey-Fig walks away with a deliberateness usually reserved for fucking about with police. Before he can demand to know the plan, she’s turned sharply.

And barrels towards him.

Riz can help the squeak he lets out, darting behind the closest lockers as Mazey-Fig sprints full speed at the place he had been stood. As she skids to a stop dramatically, she winks and flings the training room doors open. She stands there dramatically panting, and Riz realises it’s to make her look genuinely panicked.

There’s a sound of flesh on flesh. The spar had clearly just started, and Riz hurries to get a visual. Gorgug is panting hard, doubled-over his stomach and holding is tightly. His brow is painted in distress, but he manages to send a confused look up at the two of them as Porter turns from his offensive stance.

His shoulder’s relax at the sight of the student president in the entrance, though Riz’s presence seems to dampen that good spirit.

Good.

‘Miss Phaedra,’ he begins, ‘I’ve just begun a one-to-one here.’

Mazey-Fig doesn’t miss a beat before saying in a fairly poor mimic of Mazey’s voice. ‘Field’s on fire.’

‘What?’ Riz cries, because the field absolutely is not on fire.

‘What?’ Porter echoes. ‘The field?’

‘On fire.’ Mazey-Fig says with complete devastation.

Her head twitches lightly to the side, excused as the toss of hair over her shoulder. Except Riz knows Fig has a plait today. He glances in the direction of the movement as Porter turns fully to the door.

‘On fire? Are you sure?’

There’s a fire alarm. If Riz can just inch a little to the side…

‘I’m teaching here,’ Porter continues, Gorgug makes a sound that sounds like the world’s saddest laugh, ‘surely there’s another teacher who can sort—’

‘—the blood rush team were practising early!’ She cries over him, ‘they’re stuck under the bleachers.’

Riz’s takes her sudden panicked movement to shift between her and the wall. Casts a quiet mage hand, and pulls the fire alarm across the hall.

The alarm blares. Over it Arthur Augefort’s grating, advertisement voice tells student to leave the school or burn to a crisp.

‘Right.’ Porter says, a sudden seriousness over taking him as the alarm drones on. ‘Right well—Thistlespring I expect to see you right here when I get back. We aren’t rescheduling.’

Gorgug seems torn between gawking at Mazey and gawking at Porter, breathless even as he forces himself to stand upright with exhaustion flashing across his expression. ‘But I can help—’

‘—stay here.’ Porter barks. He’s rushing out the door already, and Fig side steps to let him go. She dances a little at his side as if to follow before hanging back and winking again. She mouths ‘take the left side’ then she too is gone.

‘The school’s on fire and he wants me to stay here?’ Gorgug says, disbelieving.

‘School’s not on fire.’ Riz sighs, already herding the other boy back to his bag and forcing both out the training room. He’s met with surprisingly little defence. ‘Let’s go.’

They get almost all the way down the hall, to the left, before Gorgug comes back to himself and asks, ‘What’s going on.’

‘Jailbreak.’ Fabian says, scaring the shit out of Riz as he appears from the empty potions classroom. In tow is the rest of their party sans Kristen. Riz cranes his neck to find her, but guesses she’s still stuck in study hall.

Maybe it’ll teach her something. He doubts it.

‘Oh.’ Gorgug says, distant and faint. ‘Riz, the field’s actually on fire.’

‘No it’s not.’ Riz dismisses.

‘Yeah it is.’ Adaine grins, and steps aside to let Riz get a full unobstructed view of the school track field absolutely blazing outside.

It takes me half a second to regret thinking Kristen was ever going to stay in the study hall at all. In the distance he can make out a figure with a shepherds hook staff running past a row of windows, illuminated manically by the fire.

This is gonna hurt their campaign he thinks lamely. His mom can never know about it.

Fabian takes Gorgug from him, and the release of weight surprises both of them not realising how much support he’d been giving. Gorgug grumbles but lets them, apparently the sight of Augefort on fire enough to convince him no matter what he does, they’re getting him home.

‘This is kidnapping.’ He tells them. The words catch in his throat and he gags on them, lurching forward in Fabian’s hold to press his bare arm to his mouth and descend into another fit.

Fabian watches with concern, and his grip on Gorgug gets firmer when they right him again, a loose urgency to their leaving now.

‘Shh. Let me kidnap you quietly.’

He tries a discontent, ‘I’m fine.’ But Fabian shushes him and starts hauling him back out the classroom. They’re closer to the back entrance of the school here, near the carpark, and Riz is momentarily relieved they don’t have to face the fire round the side of the school.

‘No one is actually under the bleachers, right?’

Adaine wrinkles her nose. ‘Nah. Kristen only set fire to the track field.’

She’s got Boggy on her back today in a cushioned makeshift backpack, and the fire reflects in the frog’s wide eyes with a disturbing sort of adoration. He blinks, one eye then the other, and swivels to stare at Gorgug as they leave.

Between the three of them they manage to deposit Gorgug on the curb. Fabian unloops his arm from his shoulders and tuts down at him. ‘You look like shit.’

Gorgug flips him off. And shivers.

Fabian returns it, though far less hostile, and begins digging around in his gym bag. ‘Where are your keys?’

‘Here.’ Riz hands them over from the backpack before Gorgug can make up an excuse about driving home on his own. A look from Adaine seems to pack that in quickly, and instead he mopes on the curb whilst they sort the van out.

He presses the water bottle in his hands and leaves him too it for a bit as they scuffle about making sure the van will fit them all again.

‘He’s asleep.’ Adaine says in disbelief a couple minutes later. They’ve thrown all their bags in, and Fabian won the debate about who drives by claiming he’s the only other one with a licence. Like that’s stopped them before.

‘Good.’ Riz grits. He pulls Fabian’s jacket off and tucks it around Gorgug’s shivering frame. ‘He’s done too much, he’s not gonna get better if he come to school like this.’

‘It’s kinda crazy.’ Fabian sighs, leant up against the bonnet. He’s watching Gorgug intensely, lips pressed thinly as he scans the state he’s in. ‘Seeing him so ill. He was fine yesterday I swear.’

‘He was coughing yesterday.’ Adaine admits, coming to join Gorgug on the concrete and lean his head on her shoulder rather than let it hang uncomfortably down. Boggy clmaaers out his spot into her lap, and nudges a space in Gorgug’s limp arms. He settles in looking satisfied, blinking up at Adaine.

Adaine pats him absently. ‘He just said it was allergies didn’t he. We believed him.’

‘No reason not to. He’s never been ill.’

‘Inevitable this year, the way he’s working.’ Riz says quietly, sparing a look back at the field. It wasn’t blazing anymore, but smoke made an arching plume in the sky and the fire engine sirens were beginning to fade into hearing range.

The back doors burst open and Fig and Kristen rush down the steps towards them, smeared in ash and looking proud of themselves for something or other. Riz isn’t sure he want to know.

Despite being ready to go, they all stand in a loose circle around Adaine and their sleeping barbificer.

‘Is he good?’ Fig asks. He looks like it’s taking everything in him not to nudge him with his foot and find out if he’s dead.

Kristen hurries to follow up with, ‘it’s not meningitis right? I haven’t got my jabs for that.’

Riz stares openly at Kristen, who looks far less bothered by her question than the gawking faces of the everyone else.

‘I’m sorry you what?’ Fig says slowly.

‘Kristen you’re 17.’

‘I grew up Helioic!’ Kristen defends. ‘My mum thinks vaccines would make me like, wrong or gay or something.’

‘You are wrong and gay!’ Fig exclaims, sounding simultaneously proud and outraged. ‘That’s just you though. Like, you were born gay!’

‘And wrong.’ Fabian tacks on cheerfully.

Riz side eyes him knowing for a fact the boy didn’t get half his jabs until last year when Cathilda forced him into a hospital and under threat of death got him updated on his disease protection. Riz got a late night phone call from the bard half in tears cause he couldn’t sleep on his side ‘for the pain the Ball, you don’t understand.’

Riz, who very much did understand cause goblin immune systems like to pick fights with every disease they can and has has jabs every year since he can remember, told Fabian to suck it up and then brought him some ice cream.

‘It’s been like 2 years!’ Adaine clips as Fig continues to make angry little sputters. They’ve all leant forward in a little trio, looking the full range of amused to confused to upset ‘You should have told Jawbone!’

‘What could he do?’

‘Book an appointment?’ Adaine says incredulously. ‘Get you jabs?’

Kristen mulls it over in her head just as Riz catches Gorgug shift and begin to tumble face first into the concrete. He knocks Fabian intercept, and Gorgug comes too blearily.

‘Hey.’ He says, a slur to the word that makes it sound like something significant.

‘Hey, man.’ Riz says, with the same sympathetic awkwardness for the hundredth time that day. ‘Wanna head home now?’

Gorgug just stares at him though. Apparently, all they needed to do was get him to nap to make him suggestible to going home. Riz pulls back and lets the others take Gorgug’s arms and help him to his feet. Boggy and the waterbottle both tumble to the floor, though Boggy rolls contently until he hits Adaine’s shoes.

‘How did Wilma let you out the house?’ Kristen asks, watching while Gorgug concentrates on stepping down off the curb. ‘No way they wouldn’t notice.’

‘Not home. Work trip. Told them I was too tired to facetime this mornig.’ Gorgug grumbles. He lets Adaine fold Fabian’s jacket over his shoulders more securely with weary amusement. Shaky fingers reach out to hold it in place.

He stumbles on the step down and looks at them with wide eyes. ‘You can’t tell them.’

‘Tell them what.’

‘That ‘m sick.’ He says, genuine panic seeming to creep through his plea. ‘Please. They’ll cut their trip short.’

‘Sure big guy.’ Fabian agrees easily. He opens the back doors of the Hangvan with a flourish and herds him in. ‘Let’s get you home.’

‘I never get sick.’ He pleads. He tucks into the back, knees drawn up to his chest until Kristen coaxes them back down with a reminder that he needs to breathe and he can’t do that curled up with whatever chest cough he’s picked up. ‘They’ll freak out.’

‘I’m freaked out.’ Fig announces. She’s in the driver’s seat. Fabian is pouting next to her.

Adaine pulls herself in last and Riz pulls the back doors shut behind him. It’s a little odd, being in the back of the van without Gorgug at the wheel. Flashes of the Night Yorb chase pry at his thoughts and he shoves them back. Busies himself helping Gorgug pull the hand wraps off and fold them back into their pocket of his bag.

Gorgug offers him a thanks before clearing his throat and croaking out one final, ‘guys, I’m fine. Really.’

‘He’s dying.’ Kristen announces instead.

‘Kristen.’

‘So dead.’ Kristen bemoans.

‘I miss him already.’ Adaine sing songs from the front, hand on her heart. Beside her Fig is fake crying, Fabian desperately trying to reclaim control of the wheel as she does.

Gorgug doesn’t pout, but it’s a close thing. ‘It’s literally just a cough.’

‘Hah!’ Riz can’t help himself, leaping to his feet with vindication as the admission droops sullenly from Gorgug’s miserable face. ‘You admit it then. You have a cough. You’re not fine!’

Gorgug gives him such an incredulous look of betrayal, Riz sits back down.